


A Walk In The Park

by Sovvie118



Series: Askpolylosersclub Oneshots [6]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Public Relations, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovvie118/pseuds/Sovvie118
Summary: Bill and Stan decide to spice things up a little.Paired with the askpolylosersclub blog on Tumblr. For bob-newby-superhero.





	A Walk In The Park

Bill Denbrough is more nervous than he’s ever been.

He doesn’t know what mystical force led him to the situation that he’s currently in, what otherworldly power convinced him that this would be a good idea, what dark recesses of his own mind were taking over when he said ‘yes’ to this.

‘This’ being sitting in the driver’s seat of his own car, fully clothed but with a remote-controlled, vibrating device shoved so far up his ass that when he shifts position he can feel it. Every time he presses down on the accelerator or the brake with his foot, the damned thing presses against _his insides_. The worst part? His driving passenger, with current possession of the remote for said device, is Stanley Uris.

Bill knows very well that Stan has a sadistic side; he’s been on the receiving end of his kind of torture more times than all of the other Losers put together. However, this is an entirely new situation. This time it’s being done where people might see it.

The plan, in general, was for Bill to be ‘wearing’ the device –to put it delicately- and for them to go out in public while Stan has control over it. It didn’t seem all that bad, in hindsight; Stan can be very persuasive. All he has to do is show Bill a little bit of affection and he’s at his feet like a loyal lap dog. Bill knows that all too well himself. This time, Stan came into his room while he was writing, peppered the sides of his face with kisses soft and brief enough to leave him wanting more while he rubbed at his shoulders with skilled hands and whispered ‘Do you know what would be fun?’ low into the shell of his ear. It was impossible to say no, really.

Honestly, Bill’s not really sure where he’s supposed to be driving them to, or if there’s a specific place that Stan wants to go, at all. He can feel his own grip getting harder and harder on the steering wheel as his nerves build and nothing has even happened yet. The device is switched off and its remote is tucked, undisturbed, into one of Stan’s trouser pockets but he can almost feel the outline of it, its threat becoming more and more apparent by the second.

Right now it all feels very unnatural. Neither of them have really spoken since they got into the car, despite Bill silently begging Stan to say something, to break the silence and reassure him that this isn’t as big of a deal as it currently feels. He’s not even sure that he’s going to be up for it at this point. As every slow minute passes, each time they stop at a junction and the soft ticking of the indicator is the only sound, Bill thinks about telling Stan that he’s changed his mind about the whole thing.

“W-where do you want me to go?” Bill asks instead, so quietly that even Stan, who is sitting only a couple of inches away from him in the passenger’s seat, doesn’t seem to hear what he said. He gives Bill a questioning look until he repeats it.

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies, as casually as if they were just picking a place to go and eat lunch. His nonchalance builds Bill’s nerves even further. _Shouldn’t this be something that they’re making a big deal about?_

Bill licks his lips to try and counteract their sudden dryness, as if he’s about to continue the conversation, but he doesn’t. It feels forced. It feels wrong. He kind of wants to go back home and take the stupid thing out.

After a while, as the uncomfortable –at least on Bill’s part- silence continues, he wonders whether this is all part of Stan’s game. Bill’s guard is up; he’s on edge and there’s definitely some adrenaline pumping through his veins but maybe that’s exactly how Stan wants him. It’s always hard to tell exactly what Stan wants.

At the next red light, Bill decides to assess the situation. He gives Stan a once-over, taking note of everything that he can in the short time before he has to pay attention to the road again. Stan looks perfectly calm on the outside, at least. Not a single hair out of place, shirt sleeves pressed perfectly flat where they’re rolled to his elbows to account for the warmer weather and a single, silver Cartier bracelet hanging impeccably polished from a thin wrist. He looks just like he always does: immaculate, elegant and, as Bill has always thought when he pictures the two of them standing side-by-side, unobtainable.

His eyes dart back to the road when a car horn suddenly blares from behind and he pulls away from the junction feeling even more keyed-up than before. Stan clearly notices it this time and before long, light fingers are sliding delicately between his own against the steering wheel.

“Bill. Relax.”

It’s said in more of a commanding tone than a reassuring one, Bill thinks, but he’ll take it. He lets a little of the tension go in his shoulders as he takes a deep breath.

“S-s-sorry, I just…I’m nervous,” he admits, keeping his eyes fixed on the road while Stan’s fingertips caress the back of his hand.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with this.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with the i-d-dea I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing like am I taking us to a specific place or am I just driving randomly I mean-”

“Slow down.”

“Sorry, I j-just ramble when I get anxious.”

“No, I mean literally slow down. You’re going over the speed limit.”

It’s said casually, since Bill is only actually doing a couple of miles per hour over what he should be on this particular road, but he still almost slams on the brakes in his jittery state. He feels Stan’s hand grip at the back of his own against the wheel, just very briefly.

After that incident, he decides it’s best to just pull over into the nearest park. It’s smaller than most of the public spaces of its kind in New York, quiet, unassuming. It looks nice enough, although Bill isn’t sure what ‘nice enough’ means in this scenario. He’s about to probably jizz in his pants in public, so does it really matter where they do it?

When he turns off the engine, Stan unclips his own seatbelt and watches Bill expectantly until he does the same. He definitely feels like a dog at this point, just blindly awaiting his master’s next instruction but that’s all he can do. He feels completely vulnerable. All because of that dumb remote; just a small, battery powered piece of plastic that has _this_ much control over him.

“Let’s just take a walk,” Stan says offhandedly. He’s already getting out of the car before Bill can say anything.

Opening his own door, and taking his first step out into a public place feels highly unnatural. Right now, he almost feels like he’s just playing a part. Like he’s acting out a scene in a movie that he hasn’t really read the script for. And if he’s acting, then Stan is definitely the director.

As he locks the car with its keys and places them into his pants pocket, he suddenly feels hyper aware of the toy inside his body. He’s been able to feel it for the entire car journey but thus far, he’s been able to distract himself with driving. Now, he’s completely at its mercy. Stan was the one who inserted it and he knows for a fact that he will have put it right where it’s going to have the most impact when it’s switched on. The thought is a mixture of terrifying and oddly exciting. _Mostly terrifying._

First, they take a stroll along the path and although nothing is happening yet, Bill still cringes every time a stranger walks by. Each time, he’s preparing for the worst, waiting for Stan’s hand to creep to his own pocket and switch the darn thing on right as someone passes. It’s almost _more_ frustrating that he never does, because every last person who walks by them, Bill’s nerves are getting shredded, bit by bit. In a way, he almost feels like he’s being emotionally edged.

After a while of this he relaxes a little and decides to try and enjoy the nice weather. It’s a pleasant day. The afternoon sun is providing just the right level of heat, which Bill is unfathomably thankful for; he’s a sweaty guy in general and in his current precarious situation, he’s sure that things are only going to go from bad to worse pretty quickly. He’s already feeling a little on the warm side.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts, like what he’s gonna do if he literally creams his pants and it becomes visible, that the back of Stan’s hand brushing his own makes him jump. Bill didn’t even notice him moving closer. Although his nerves calm when Stan’s cool, dry hand slides into his own slightly warm and clammy one. He laces their fingers together and Stan gives him what feels like a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you okay?” he asks, calmly. Bill can feel Stan’s eyes on the side of his face so he turns to look at him. The sun is almost directly behind him, lighting up the stray strands of blonde hair around his head like some kind of halo. Bill gives him a small nod and it’s at that second, as if out of nowhere, that the little device inside his body hums to life. It’s only a very soft vibration but the shock of it makes Bill want to curl his toes even though he’s standing upright. He was right about where Stan placed it; directly where it’s going to cause the most pleasure/pain/discomfort/however you want to look at it. Stan gives his hand another squeeze as if he’s saying ‘I’m here’ but it does nothing to distract Bill from the pulsating object.

It gets harder and harder to walk as this continues. He can feel himself getting hard and he’s overwhelmingly relieved that he decided to put on a pair of Ben’s baggy sweatpants –the ones he always buys for himself in a couple of sizes too big- because it’s currently hiding any sort of ‘tenting’ that might be happening otherwise. Although if this keeps up he might be in trouble anyway. He can imagine it now, the headline on the front page of the New York Herald about a young man being arrested for indecently exposing himself in the park where there are children playing.

He tries to push that thought away as he tugs Stan in the direction of a nearby bench so he can sit down. In a short while, his legs are going to stop doing what they should and he would rather not collapse onto the ground where people might rush over to try and help him. Stan goes with him willingly, although he perches himself on the very edge of the seat so as little of his Ralph Lauren trousers –at least those are which ones Bill thinks they are- are touching it as possible. He’s always had a thing about public seating, even when his dress sense wasn’t so pricey.

Right now, anything that might be stuck to or smeared on the wooden bench is the least of Bill’s worries. He tugs at the legs of his sweats to try and distract himself, clearing his throat loudly enough that it grabs Stan’s attention back from a bird that’s just landed in the grass a few feet away.

“I’m luh-literally dying here and you’re looking at a _bird!_ ”

“Yeah, but did you see it? It was a-”

“I don’t care what it was! I don’t care if it was wearing a tux and it d-did a little dance with a top hat and a cane! This was _your_ idea and you’re not even paying attention!”

Stan flicks some curls absent-mindedly out of his face and then folds his arms over his chest.

“Well, are _you_ gonna do a little dance for me?”

Bill can’t help but laugh the next time he speaks.

“ _N-no!_ I’m trying to act casual, here!”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it. Have you seen how red your face is getting?”

_“Stan!”_

“Okay, okay. Would you calm down? We’re just taking a walk, here.”

“We are not just taking a walk!”

“Stop raising your voice at me.”

Bill immediately stops talking. He watches Stan’s hand inching towards his pocket where he can still see the outline of what looks like a mobile phone but that Bill knows is actually a small remote. He shakes his head frantically.

“No..n-no…I’m sorry…I was totally out of line. It won’t happen again.” He blurts out quickly, feeling himself relax a little when Stan’s hand moves away again. He’s already dangerously close to popping a full-on boner as it is; he doesn’t want to think about what might happen if Stan turns that thing up a notch.

“You’re getting all worked up over nothing,” Stan says as he picks a small piece of fluff off of his chinos and flicks it into the grass somewhere, as casually as Bill’s ever seen anyone do anything, ever, in his life. He feels like the least casual person on Earth right now, himself.

“N-nothing? You think this is nothing? Okay well then p-p-put it in yourself next time and _I’ll_ have the remote.”

The end of Bill’s sentence tails off as an elderly couple walk by them with a dog. Stan smiles at them, all calm and composure, with a sweet ‘Good afternoon’ that makes Bill want to punch him square in the face. After they’ve gone, Stan turns back to look at Bill. He gives him a quick up and down glance, eyes resting on the crotch of Bill’s sweats, where despite his best efforts to hide it, there’s a steadily growing bulge.

“That’s not very inconspicuous,” he says with an amused tone that almost turns into a chuckle, as Bill frantically tugs at the fabric to try and conceal himself. He’s definitely getting a little hot under the collar, now. There’s a pleasure growing fast and deep in his body that he can’t possibly ignore, and it’s making him feel almost a little lightheaded. That’s when he realises that Stan has turned the fucking thing up onto the next level.

He reaches out for Stan’s shoulder and tugs at him until he gets the hint and shuffles closer so that Bill doesn’t have to say what it is he’s about to say out loud, for all to hear. After looking at Stan pointedly until he leans in closer, he blurts it out.

_“I think I’m gonna come.”_

He tries to whisper it but it comes out sounding like more of a desperate whine. Briefly, he reaches down between his own thighs but Stan, being the more rational of the two –especially right at that second-, pulls his hand away to hold it between his own.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” he whispers back, glancing briefly over his shoulder at a female jogger who’s wearing earphones and a high ponytail, and who is currently huffing her way right in their direction. Bill’s not sure if it’s possible to hold in an orgasm like you can do with pee, or how Stan expects him to do it when he’s so close that he’s not sure he even cares about the strange –but admittedly very pretty- woman seeing or hearing something that she shouldn’t. Although, when she jogs right over to their bench to rest one of her feet against it so she can re-tie the laces on one of her white sneakers, Bill feels like he’s definitely going to have to try.

He attempts to look as casual as he can, reciprocating the little nod and smile that she gives to them both, although he feels like he’s holding his breath. She drops her foot from the bench and she’s about to leave but then _oh god she’s taking a bottle of water out of a pouch on her waist and standing there to drink it_ and Bill is pretty sure that he’s going to come, so he has to either hide it really well or get away from here as quickly as possible. There’s no chance he’s going to be able to stand up any time soon so he settles for the former, thanking the high Heavens that she turns her back to continue her run just as it hits him. He still presses his lips as tightly as he can together to stifle a moan, but ultimately he can’t help the way his head drops back or the way his hips lift out of the seat just slightly.

Stan holds his hand through it as Bill’s knuckles go white and then he’s grasping at him and stuttering broken sentences but he clearly gets the message –he’s used to trying to piece together whatever Bill is trying to say- and he reaches for the remote to turn it back down to the lowest setting.

“No, t-t-turn it off,” Bill breathes, lifting his head and trying to put his hand into Stan’s pocket to get at the remote but Stan holds him back, distracts him by leaning in close and kissing at his ear and his neck just by it, whispering praises at him.

_“You’re doing so well. Just leave it on. It’ll feel so good, I promise.”_

The area is overly sensitive right now; it almost hurts but Bill knows from experience –predominantly with Stan- that if you push past that, it gets even better, so he gives him another short nod of consent. Stan seems satisfied with it and he moves back to give him some space as Bill shifts back into a normal sitting position. He’d slid a little way down the seat and it looked a bit odd.

“Oh gg-god,” he winces, adjusting his sweats again and straightening out his t-shirt. His underwear feels quite sticky, a sensation that he remembers well from being a randy teen, and he’s going to kiss Ben’s beautiful face when he gets back home for buying sweatpants that are made of thick material and too big; if they weren’t he’s sure he’d be in danger of having some sort of wet stain on the front of them right now.

The buzzing in his ass is subtle again but it’s still driving him crazy and it feels like it’s pressed against every single sensitive nerve in his entire body. He can honestly feel himself starting to get hard again already and it’s embarrassingly fast even for him. After a few seconds of watching Bill’s face, observing the way his eyelids keep fluttering as if threatening to close, Stan rises from the edge of the bench. He’s still holding Bill’s hand and he pulls him up, too.

“Are you okay?” he chuckles, watching Bill adjusting himself again now he’s standing and Bill gives him a grimace.

“It feels like I’ve peed my pants.”

“Well, you need to stop ejaculating so hard. Hold some of it in.”

“Can’t you j-just say nut or come like a normal person? And that isn’t physic-cally possible.”

“Not for you, maybe.”

“Stan, if you’re t-t-telling me that you can hold in your-”

Stan holds his finger to his lips and gives Bill a dangerous look as a middle-aged man with a toddler walks past, but once they’re at a safe distance, his serious act falls briefly and he does snicker. Bill laughs, too, and seeing Stan smiling makes him feel a lot better about the whole situation.

“Okay, let’s just take another walk,” Stan suggests, although he releases Bill’s hand from his own and wipes it on Bill’s t-shirt, “But I’m not holding your hand anymore.”

“Understandable.”

“Maybe you should…jog or something. At least then you look realistically sweaty.”

“Jog? I can barely f-fucking walk.”

“That’s not my problem,” Stan says smugly, tucking his hands into his pockets and briefly turning the vibrator up so high that Bill actually gasps and has to lean against the nearest available surface –which is Stan-, and he almost moans before he slaps a shaking hand over his mouth. Stan keeps his hands in his pockets and makes no attempt whatsoever to help Bill to remain upright, resulting in him actually sliding to the floor in a crouch and clinging onto both of Stan’s legs dramatically. He mumbles something through his palm.

“Sorry, Bill. I didn’t catch that. And please get up. This looks _really_ indecent.”

Bill shoots a glare up at him and resists the urge to punch Stan right in the balls –he is at the perfect height to do so- but he instead goes for one of his hands, trying to wrestle the remote out of it. A young man and woman walk past and give them a strange look but Bill doesn’t really notice them.

_“Stan please! P-p-p-please turn it off!”_

Thankfully, Bill’s rather loud outburst goes unnoticed by the couple, as they’re a great enough distance away by that point. Stan holds the remote out of Bill’s reach as he looks down at him.

“Say please again. Nicely this time,” he orders, watching Bill’s wide eyes staring up at him.

“…Please,” Bill gulps, trying to stop his voice from shaking. It’s soon, but he can actually feel another climax building already.

“Please…?”

“Please, St-Stan.”

Bill is frantic, now. He’s at the point where he’ll do or say anything that Stan wants him to and he’s pretty sure that this is the fastest he’s ever got here. They only got out of the car about a half hour ago.

“No,” Stan says, firmly, “Stop playing dumb. Say it.”

“P-please…” Bill whimpers, eyes flicking back and forth between the remote and Stan’s face but Stan clearly doesn’t like that. He grips Bill’s chin with his other hand, holding eye contact with him.

“Say it.”

“…Please…” Bill swallows. He knows this game well and if he doesn’t play it, Stan will only make things endlessly worse for him, “…Sir.”

The device immediately stops, and Bill looks over to see Stan’s thumb against the power button. He feels exhausted, wants to collapse on the ground, or at least against Stan but more people continue to filter along the path and this looks strange enough as it is. Thankfully, Stan helps him to his feet and gets an arm around his waist to steady him. He’s never been very strong but right now, his arm feels surprisingly firm against Bill’s back.

“Are you good?” he asks him, softly, and Bill just looks at him. He’s not sure that he is good, really, “Do you wanna stop?” Stan continues, giving him another opportunity to put an end to this whole thing but he looks into Stan’s eyes and he sees genuine concern and love. He shakes his head.

The second time Bill comes, they have to leave the more public spaces and head into the safe density of the trees. He’d tried so hard not to let it get to him when Stan had switched that thing back on but it was too much. Thankfully, Stan seems equally satisfied to have him pressed up against a tree and to repeatedly switch between settings on the remote to see which combination gets the best reaction out of him. Not that Bill is complaining. Now he’s out of the public eye he lets himself enjoy it a little, tells Stan outright which feels the best. At one point, a combination of buttons makes the toy pulsate and vibrate at the same time and Bill’s knees actually go weak. He has to hold an arm around Stan’s shoulders for support.

 _“Th-that one! That one…”_ he blurts out frantically as his head drops into the crook of Stan’s neck. It’s involuntary but now he’s here, Stan smells so good and it’s only adding to the whole sensation. He worries briefly that he’s currently clinging to the back of Stan’s shirt with a sweaty palm but he hasn’t been reprimanded for it yet, so he decides that it must be okay.

It feels so good that it’s dizzying. He doesn’t know what to do with himself; it’s like his body both wants to keep moving but be still all at the same time and he can’t decide which. He’s so close. _So, so close._

When he feels Stan’s palm slide into the front of his sweats, it’s absolute bliss. He moans loud into his shoulder, unable to contain it anymore, as he starts to rub at him through his damp underwear. He’s going to regret this on the drive home but right now he couldn’t fucking care less. He gets his free hand onto Stan’s waist to bring him closer and Stan doesn’t stop him, just presses him more firmly against the tree and _Jesus fucking Christ_ he’s never wanted him so bad in his life.

He’s breathing open-mouthed against Stan’s neck, above his unfastened collar and it’s never felt so good to have his lips on someone’s skin before. The scent of Stan’s expensive cologne is making him feel light-headed; it’s overpowering with his face buried here but at the same time, it’s so good that he doesn’t ever want to move. Stan’s hand, now right between his thighs and palming at his balls feels better than anything that’s ever touched him before.

He wants to tell him that he’s going to come again but knows that he would stutter badly even if his brain could actually conjure up the words to begin with, but Stan seems to already sense it. He tugs at the front of Bill’s sweats and they both look down, heads resting together, at the dampness already spreading across Bill’s black boxer shorts. His erection is straining and very obvious beneath them and Stan rests his thumb against it, gently rubbing it up and down the shaft. It’s barely any pressure at all but it feels so good that Bill actually has to grip harder at Stan’s shirt to support himself.

 _“I-I’m gonna come- Fuck, Stan, I’m gonna come,”_ he manages to blurt out, watching as Stan slides his thumb to the tip, rubbing there in firm, little circles and that pushes him over the edge. He’s basically got a bunch of Stan’s shirt fabric in his palm, now, as he tugs at it. His hips jerk forward a couple of times, and he actually comes _through_ the material, although thankfully it drips down the front of his boxer shorts rather than going anywhere on Stan.

He whimpers, then, clinging to Stan for dear life as the machine continues to buzz inside him and it’s too much and it _fucking hurts._ He doesn’t need to beg for Stan to switch it off, this time. He does it anyway, tucking it back into his trouser pocket for safekeeping so he can support Bill’s weight properly.

 _“Ohh, fuck-”,_ Bill chokes out, breathing hot and hard against Stan’s neck. His insides feel like they’re still pulsating, like an aftershock, and his legs are just numb. It takes him a while to gain back his composure, _“Th-that was a good one.”_

“Yeah?” Stan chuckles, rather fondly, propping Bill up against the tree to pull the waistband of his sweats back up for him. It’s an awkward process. Bill doesn’t feel like he’s being very helpful but he’s still too blissed out to be of any real use anyway.

_“Yeah. I saw suh-s-stars.”_

“You did?” Stan still seems very jovial, all of a sudden. He wipes Bill’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes and pushes the hair back off his face, holding it there to meet his gaze. Bill nods, feeling that post-orgasm, Zen sort of feeling start to wash over him as he watches Stan’s face. He’s not sure if he’s going to have the pleasure of a kiss, yet, but then Stan leans in to press their lips together. It’s brief and closed-mouthed but it’s firm and it says all it needs to.

Stan drives them both home again as Bill isn’t really in a fit state to do it. He’s too busy lying, completely content, against the passenger seat in a sort of half-asleep state. Although he frequently makes sure to reach over and touch Stan’s cheek fondly, which surprisingly enough, Stan leans into every time and once or twice, it actually makes him smile.

When they pull into the driveway of their home, they sit in the car for a few minutes and share another kiss. This time it lasts a little longer and Bill gets his fingers, just very briefly, into Stan’s hair. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

“Next time let’s go for three,” Stan smirks as they pull apart, but Bill slips the remote out of Stan’s pocket and holds it up. He gives it a little wave.

“Next time it’s my turn.”


End file.
